


Second Chance

by Alkalyne



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Afterlife, Death, Gen, Guilt, One Shot, really they're just friends, super friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 16:09:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alkalyne/pseuds/Alkalyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything comes with a price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Chance

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers if you are not up to date with the manga.

“He's losing too much blood!” Armin was fumbling for something. 

Pressure on his stomach. Jean feebly tried to wave him away but it was too much effort.

“We have to get him to the medic,” Connie's eyes were probably wide. “Titan! Right behind u—oh, shit, two of them.”

Shnk.

The sound of his warrior angel.

“You get him back to the headquarters.” Mikasa said. “I will handle them.” She glanced at Jean. “Don't die. Levi must hear what you have to say—it may save Eren.”

“Ah--” Jean winced. Cruel angel may have been more fitting.

Yet she just said not to die. It wasn't like he needed to be told that, but he was in so much pain. Jean had a feeling he was going to fail her. There was no way they'd be able to fix him, even if they got to the medic in time. He stared at the sky, the blue sky not as vivid as it had been when they set out.

Jean looked down. Armin's hands were covered in blood, the fabric in his hands saturated. But that wasn't what Jean was looking for. He couldn't see it. His heart began to pound. But he was too weak to claw at his shirt to look for it. How pathetic.

“Jean, what are you doing?” Connie grabbed his wrists.

“Huh? What is it? What's happening back there?” Sasha snapped the reigns, urging their horses to move faster.

There was a deafening crash—Mikasa had taken care of the first Titan.

Jean wanted to shove Connie away. Instead he focused on trying to make his hands move. He could barely feel his shirt. “M-Marco...”

“Huh?” Connie's grip slackened. “Armin, I think he's losing it!”

The blonde blur that was Armin straightened up. Jean grunted, the weight on his gut increasing. “His necklace. He's trying to find it.”

“He has a necklace?” Connie let go of Jean's wrists. He unbuttoned his shirt and fished out the vial and cord. “Why would you wear this? It could strangle y—oh. You can change the length.” 

At least Connie had enough brains to tug at it and make it longer. 

“See?” He held it up. “You can see it, right Jean?” Panic was etched in his words.

Jean shakily snatched it out of the young man's hand. The little bone inside clinked against the glass. He managed a smile as they heard the second deafening crash.

His hand fell to his chest with a light thud.

~+~+~

Jean looked around. He snorted. So a hallway with a light at the very end? How...boring.

But this was where he was. Jean felt no pain. He put his hand to his lower left abdomen and felt nothing wet or sticky. Just the rough material of his shirt and the smoothness of his belt. 

“Hn.” Jean looked at his fingers. The nails were clean and the skin unbroken. He could see more details than expected in this darkness.

There was nowhere else to go but forward.

His footsteps echoed. The walls were narrow but Jean didn't feel them as he extended his hands. The ground felt like it was cobblestone. Looking down possibly confirmed that. It seemed these fine details he could see were only related to him. 

He wondered if that was symbolic or that's just how crossing into the afterlife worked.

At least he was definitely getting closer to the light. People often said to not go into it.

But there was no need for him to fight it—Armin heard what he himself discovered as well. Why Mikasa said it was Jean who needed to survive was a mystery. Maybe she didn't know Armin also knew.

He reached for his necklace again. It felt good to know he didn't need somebody to half undress him to get it. As Jean pulled at his necklace to make it longer, the bone from who knew where in the body bounced about. Maybe it was a fragment of the femur. Or possibly the smallest of the finger bones. It didn't matter—Jean just had to pretend it was from Marco. That way they'd always be fighting Titans together.

And suddenly it was light.

“Hn.” Jean looked around. It wasn't painfully bright—it was just a white room. He hoped there would be something pleasant in here. If there was, then it meant that Marco had something good out of the horror of his final moments. But this was all speculation. There was almost never talk about life after death back behind the walls. His mother often hoped for one after his father had died. 

The figure had his back to him.

Jean remembered tales from the training days, overhearing the heretical stories Armin knew. Long before the Titans people fought over what happened after death. Apparently many people believed there was a final judgment after death. It was to the point they'd be willing to kill others over it. How stupid, Jean often thought. Once you were dead, you were dead. If there was a supposed figure with such power, Jean didn't think it would care if you knew it existed or not. Was this perhaps his judge? He at least hoped it wouldn't care Jean didn't know about its presence.

This judge was tall and had dark hair. His stomach dropped.

Please don't turn around, please don't turn around...

He was just standing there, slouching. Slowly, Marco turned and faced Jean, smiling.

“Oh.” Jean let out a relieved sigh. His friend was complete and clean. “Marco...” He started to shake. “You look fine...” They were dead, what did Jean care if he started crying? But even if he was dead, his habits remained. He turned, rubbing his eyes, trying to man up.

“Jean? What are you doing here?”

“Huh?” Jean turned back around, tears drying instantly.

“Well?”

The tone wasn't welcoming.

“I died.” Jean said after a moment. It was strange at how blunt and natural those words were. “My gear started to short out and I got smacked into a sharp branch.”

Marco looked down. “I don't want you here.”

“What?” 

He took Jean's hand into his own. They were warm.

“I said I don't want you here.” He looked up, still smiling. 

Marco's grip was gentle, but Jean couldn't bring himself to pull away. He stared at Marco but wasn't seeing him. So even here, in death, Jean was rejected. Mikasa was only concerned about him for the sake of Eren. And now he was finding out what his best friend really thought of him.

Marco squeezed his hand. “I really didn't want to see you ever again.”

The tears were staring again and he couldn't stop them.

“But it's okay, Jean,” Marco continued, as if he was saying the sweetest things. “By listening to me, you also listen to Mikasa. That's what you want, right?”

Jean looked away. “I don't get it,” he sniffled. “Why are you being an asshole, Marco?” Sure it'd be nice to please Mikasa, but not at this price.

His friend laughed. “It's good to know you haven't changed!” He took one of his hands and put it on Jean's shoulder. 

Jean grabbed the hand. “What are you getting at?” He asked, anger seizing him.

But Marco's smile didn't fall. His hand slipped out of Jean's and took it. “I didn't want a meaningless death. I got one. You don't want to die. You did.” He cradled Jean's hands in his, looking down at them.

And just as sudden the anger was, it was leaving. There was no arguing it. Jean thought he could say Marco's death had meaning. But he couldn't figure out how. What was there to say? Congrats, Marco, your death motivated me to join the Scouting Legion, which in turn lead to my own death?

“...Yah, I guess you're right.” Jean sighed.

Marco pulled Jeans' hands to his heart. “But I don't want both our fears to come true.” His smile became weary. The look aged him ten years, which Jean found funny for a dead man. “If you could be given a second chance, would you take it?”

“Depends—would I die an even more painful and humiliating death?”

Marco pushed their hands to Jeans's heart. “I'm serious.”

Jean blinked. “Okay, okay. ...I don't know,” he said after a moment. “I really don't. On the one hand, I'm tired of the Titans always beating us. On the other...” He pulled his hands out of Marco's and clasped them. “Traitors. Annie...Reiner...Bertholdt—Ymir! All of them!” His voice and rage grew with every word. “Even if I was only given another ten minutes at life, if that was all I needed to set the Human race back on track...” He held onto Marco. “I'd take it!”

Marco let his hands fall. Jean didn't let go. “So you will take this second chance?”

“Yes.” Jean paused. “...Wait, how could you grant me that?”

Marco let out one of his laughs. Jean's heart ached. He never thought he'd know that sound again. “I'm glad to hear, Jean.” His smile was warm and wonderful.

They stood there.

After what may have been several minutes, Jean shifted on his feet. “So...what? Do we just stand here until I wake up or something?” He let out a nervous laugh. “Or, what, do I get sent back to just before I die and I just have to figure out how to not get unceremoniously stabbed? This is all...not what I expected.” Another laugh, this one louder.

“Yes, actually. ...To the first one, not the second.” Marco released Jean's hands. “You will hate me. Even though you know I'm not responsible, you will hate me.”

“What? Marco, that's ridiculous!” More nervous laughter. “How the hell could I hate you? I mean, you sure had me going, making me think you hated me.”  
His friend looked at the necklace. “Second chances come with a price,” he whispered. “I'm serious when I say I never want to see you again, Jean. I want you to live a life. But...” his fingers traced the little glass vial. “Maybe I'm being selfish. It won't be one you want if we do this.” Marco looked up, guilt in his eyes. “You'd understand that, right? Do you think what I'm going to do is selfish?”

“Marco, I just died. And apparently there is life after death. It's starting to look like there is a lot I don't know.” He took Marco's hands again. “It's...cliché to say, but I do know it's at least letting me see you again. I know to at least think about how glad I am for that.” Jean paused. “...And I still have no idea what the hell you're talking about, so I can't tell if you're being a selfish prick or not.”

“Hm.” Marco's attention was back on the necklace. “What is this?”

Jean felt his cheeks flush. “Ah. Yah, that.” He looked down at it. “I was the one who found you.” His voice was suddenly small. “I helped them put your body in the cremation pile. I...wasn't sure if that was a bone from you or not.” He looked back up. “When I was looking at it, that was when I decided to join the Scouting Legion.”

Jean suddenly smiled. “Hey...See, Marco? I guess I was wrong.” Wrong about what, of course Marco wouldn't know. “None of our fears will come true! Your death, it had purpose...” But the words felt wrong. “No.” He was beginning to cry again. “You died. Even if you destroyed all the Titans and died slaying the last one, you'd still be dead and I'd still be alive and alone.” Jean grabbed Marco's shoulders. “You could say your death had purpose, to put me in the Scouting Legion. But that'd only be true if I do get this second chance and not die again. I don't know if I can do that, Marco. I don't know if I can do anything to make your death have purpose.”

His friend glanced up. “When you wake up and realize your full potential, you will know you can.” 

“Marco...can you please just tell me what you're babbling about? Am I in some kind of...in between?” He shook him. “I was impaled! There is no way they can repair that! My intestines were torn, the Titan broke some ribs...”

But his friend's attention was back on the necklace. He twisted it this way and that, a muffled, delicate noise was made with each motion. “Would you say it's like a reminder that you're Human? Or, I guess...say that this is your humanity?”

Jean gave him a quizzical look. “What kind of question is that? Talk about a topic change.”

The look Marco was giving him said he wasn't trying to be funny.

Jean's shoulders slackened. He had to think. “...Yes,” he said at last. “I'm still mourning for you, Marco. Wearing that is just one more reminder for why I fight. If I lost this...I don't know. I'd go mad? I'd be all the more aware of the void you left behind?” He chuckled, embarrassed at how sappy he was being. “Yah. I guess it sorta serves as that. Losing it might be a better reminder, since all we seem to do is thrive on what we no longer have.” 

“I am being selfish, then.” Marco yanked the little bottle, snapping the cord.

“What the hell--”

He threw it aside as if it was trash. “I never want to see you again, Jean.” Marco embraced him. “You need to wake up now. It's time to reach your full potential.” His lips were at Jean's ear. “Please don't hate me,” whispered Marco.

~+~+~

Pain. His head was cloudy and heavy. That was the first thing Jean was aware of. 

Then it was the shackles.

“Huh?” Jean sat up, staring at them in horror. He was vaguely aware of how not painful it was to breathe and move. “What the hell?” His panicked eyes darted about the room. Armin was at his side, Mikasa hovering over him, her shoulders tense. Sasha and Connie were watching him, both afraid and worried. Levi was leaning against the wall, eying him with the odd expression of dull interest. Haji was to his left—there was something he didn't like about her gaze. Erwin was to Levi's right, his face an unreadable mask.

“You're awake,” the corporal said.

“I'm alive.” Jean replied. It sounded more like a correction. He looked down. “...Where's my necklace?”

“See?” Connie managed. “I told you he'd notice it went missing.” He rubbed the bottom of his nose. “Also funny that's the first thing he asks about...”

“How? You weren't that rough with it.” Jean's brain was piecing something together. The necklace. He had to focus on that. His brain wanted him to do otherwise, but Jean didn't want to listen to it.

Connie shrugged. “We were kinda on the run, man. Mikasa took out those two Titans but there were another three after that. Me 'n Sasha helped take care of them. It was crazy. Coulda fallen off while we moved you. No offense, but that trinket wasn't on my list of stuff to pay attention to.”

Jean turned to Armin. He was smart. 

But he looked away. His entire posture was rigid and he was pale.

“...What happened?” Jean looked down again. 

Nobody said a word.

Not even the corporal or their commander, which Jean thought of as strange. Haji was trying to hide her excitement.

Jean's heart sank.

He wrenched off the covers; he pulled up the linen shirt.

No blood, no bandages.

Jean didn't want to understand it. His brain was screaming at him. He wanted to bash his head against the wall if that was what it took to shut the damn thing up. 

“You started to heal,” Armin said slowly. 

Jean was vaguely aware of Haji taking notes. He looked back down at the smooth skin. His hand slid to his chest. “You bastard,” whispered Jean.

“Huh?” Armin's mouth hung open. “I--”

“I don't hate you, but damn...” He began to laugh. It was a rough, shaky sound. “I see what you meant, you bastard.” Jean tried to grab at his hair, but couldn't. All he could do was slump forward. “I almost want to. Well, I never promised, now did I? I might see you sooner than either of us want. Maybe not ten minutes from now, but...” He wanted to hide his face. All he could do was breathe deeply. No pain. “This is my full potential, huh? I'm awake? If I am, then this is some waking nightmare.” Jean reached for his now vacant chest. “Am I still Human, Marco?”

Nobody answered him. Of course there was no response—Jean was asking for comfort from the dead. The only sound he heard was Haji's scribbling.

“Jean...” Armin was trying to sound strong. “I know you need time to adjust, but there isn't any. You're the only, uh...one on our side right now. Eren's still missing.”

He looked up, eyes empty. “Sure thing, Armin. Gotta give Marco's death purpose, don't I?” His hand was still at his chest. “Running on empty, but I think I can do it.”

Armin frowned. He looked to the corporal and commander. “We can release him. Jean would've told us if he couldn't.”

But Levi didn't seem convinced. “Look at me,” he ordered.

Jean obliged.

“If we let you go, will you turn and kill us?”

“No. But I will tear every Titan that isn't Eren apart. Even if you tell me to stop, I don't think I will.”

Of course he didn't look convinced. “How can we be sure your level of brutal honesty wasn't some kind of act?” Levi folded his arms.

“Jean.” Commander Erwin finally spoke.

“What?” 

“We need you to listen to us. If we order you to stop, you follow those orders. Is that clear?”

He was chained. Jean wasn't a threat. He was vulnerable, but that meant nothing to him now. Even if his response was going to entail a beating from Levi, it wouldn't stop him. “Yes, Commander, that is clear. But like I said, I don't think I'll listen. I won't rest until every enemy Titan in sight is dead.” He clenched his fists. “I will kill them all. Marco's death will have purpose.”

Erwin looked to Levi. “Sounds a lot like Eren, doesn't he?”

Levi said nothing.

Erwin straightened up. “Let him go. Sasha, Connie, with me. Armin, Mikasa, have him upstairs in thirty minutes.” He turned and exited the room.

Levi followed. He paused at the stairs. “Make sure he's presentable.” And then he left, Haji right behind him.

And Jean was alone with Armin and Mikasa. Funny how less than twelve hours ago he'd have been ecstatic about Mikasa helping dress him.

It was she who was undoing the shackles. “Are you telling the truth, Jean?” Mikasa asked.

“I thought my introduction to you three in training made it clear—I always do.”

She looked him in the eye. “So does that mean if you find Eren in Titan form, you won't kill him?” 

Jean rubbed his now free wrists. “Mikasa, I may hate him, but I won't let something as petty as that doom the rest of our species. My only purpose now is to make sure Marco's death was the most meaningful one in all of Human history.” 

The binds on his ankles were removed. “Stand.” She stepped back.

Jean shakily got to his feet. He didn't feel stronger. In fact he felt much weaker.

Armin held a neatly folded Scouting uniform. “Let's get you dressed so you can fulfill your purpose, then.”


End file.
